Zevran's Victory
by Willow in Winter
Summary: Zevran and fem Dalish elf have some bonding time. Lots of lemon! Oneshot.


A/N: So as much as I absolutely love Alistair, I thought that Zevran needed some love on this site. I find this stuff _very_ hard to write, and for whatever reason this one was much slower in coming than _Of Kings and Queens_ (shameless plug, go read it!) and so this is a little shorter...plus I kind of fizzled out near the end. Regardless, enjoy! Comments are always welcome! And yes, the title sucks but I just wanted to get this up and couldn't think of anything better. I hate titles! :)

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**Zevran's Victory**

Lana was hiding from Alistair. She'd seen the way the big human looked at her; his eyes sweeping from head to toe when he thought she wasn't looking. Sometime between slaying the High Dragon and putting a king on the throne of Orzammar his glances had changed. He used to regard her as his fellow Grey Warden, a partner in crime. Now, she could tell, he looked at her as a _woman_, a partner in something…less than platonic.

_Oh, Gods_. Alistair was sweet, yes. Handsome, certainly. She laughed at his jokes readily enough, and even appreciated his dry wit. But Alistair was too…too what? She fished around for the adjective she wanted. _Inexperienced._ In life, in reality…in love. Innocence was his middle name.

Lana frowned, rubbing the tattoo on her forehead in meditation. Was she really going to be that shallow? Yes, the world was black and white to Alistair, but he'd been raised within the Chantry. Though he hadn't been happy there, its doctrines had taken hold in him. But that only meant that she had much to teach him about the ways of the world.

_Stop kidding yourself Lana,_ she thought to herself. _You _know _why you don't want Alistair…_

Indeed. And the reason why sat just across the clearing, next to the large bonfire, chatting up Leliana. Or at least attempting to.

Lana sighed. _Zevran_. It was hard to notice the apple if the orange was throwing itself at you.

Alistair couldn't fathom why she had spared his life. Black and white. But his tale of growing up in the whorehouse, being sold to the Crows at such a tender age, had struck a chord in her. Behind the façade of steel and seduction, he was a good and honorable elf. And maybe it was also because he _was _an elf that led her to bring him along. Another misfit to join their band. A royal bastard, a dead mage, a forest witch. Adding an assassin to that lot wasn't much of a stretch.

They had been in the Dalish camp for several days now. The wandering elves had generously donated a number of their aravels for the companions to stay, probably because it was Lana who led them. Though not her clan, many of the Dalish had recognized her and welcomed her back with open arms. They listened to her tales with great interest, and heeded her warning about the Blight. She was strangely at peace here. Though her path no longer included life among them, the Dalish were _home._

Peace. Ha! There could be no peace if she was constantly jumping at shadows that could be Alistair, waiting to pounce on her with some token of his affections.

Parting the flaps of the wagon slightly, Lana peered outside. Night had fallen. The stars twirled slowly overhead. The camp seemed deserted; most had already gone to bed. Leliana and Zevran were gone from the fire. Shale stood, a silent monolith, near the tree line, the light of the fire reflecting faintly off her crystals. Sticking her head out, she could see the faint outlines of elves in the trees, keeping watch. The Wardens and their companions could sleep tonight in safety.

"Still awake my dear?" A lilting voice spoke, inches from her ear. Lana gasped, jerking away instinctively, and fell awkwardly back inside the wagon.

She inwardly cursed. He was the only one who could sneak up on her so, and he delighted in it. Too many times at camp she would stand, absorbed the cooking or assembling her tent, and then turn to find him so close behind her that she would run into him. He would laugh and wrap his arms around her, holding her steady. He had smelled like leather and cloves.

Zevran laughed now, softly as to not awake those sleeping, and ducked inside with her. She scowled up at him, heart hammering. He had never been inside her tent before.

The assassin folded his long legs, sinking silently to the ground, his knees almost touching hers. He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.

"I just wanted to see how our fearless leader was handling being among the Dalish again. And maybe handle our fearless leader in turn." His accent was mesmerizing.

"Err…well, uh, yes I'm doing just fine thank you." She was flustered. Gods she _hated_ that he could do this to her. "I'm a Grey Warden now. I've moved on. There is nothing for me here anymore." There. She was admitting it to herself as well as to him.

"Ah, but look at us!" he crooned. "Two souls, torn apart from the lives they have known all along, _thrust_ together into a battle with hopeless odds, _clinging_ to each other against the violent storm…"

Lana had been staring at the tattoo on his cheek, watching it move while he spoke, but she still had the sense to roll her eyes at his enunciations. "Zev we are hardly _clinging _to each other. I think we're both doing just fine."

He put on a wounded face. "But wouldn't you like to be clinging to me? I cling very well, I have been told."

She couldn't help but smile. For all his being an assassin sent to kill her, Lana just felt at ease with the dark-skinned elf.

Her eyes were drawn to his tattoos again. She'd never really looked at them closely. They were so different from hers. The delicate arches and whorls on her forehead paled in comparison to his. Their curves were darker and fiercer. They were dangerous looking. They were beautiful.

Zevran noticed her studying eyes.

"Ah, I see you are admiring my markings. If you wanted to see my full collection you only had to ask." And before she could react or protest, he crossed his arms and drew his shirt up over his head, tossing it away.

There were many more of the symbols on his chest and abdomen. They curled under his collarbones; one arched down and formed a spiral over his heart. Some ran down his sides, curving to accentuate the muscles there. And some…some trailed even lower, sweeping over his hip bones and disappearing under his trousers.

Woah Lana. "Oh, uh, Zev…er, Zevran no I'm not sure that…umm I'm really tired you know, we have a uh, big day tomorrow."

His grin grew wider and wider at her distress. He took one of her hands and placed it on the spiral over his heart. His skin was warm under her fingers; she could feel his steady heartbeat under her palm.

"This one is for courage." He moved her hand to his collarbones. "These are for luck." Now to his bicep, flowing with more of the ink. "For strength…"

She was watching her hand progress along his body, but she could feel his eyes locked on her face. He brought her hand lower, down his chest to his navel. She almost pulled back, but did not.

"For swiftness…" He drew her lower still, to his hip. Her hand trembled slightly in his. "And for…_virility._"

Zevran released her hand then, and she returned it to her lap. She struggled for words.

"They're…lovely Zevran. Truly." He was still staring at her, eyes smoldering.

At this moment, Lana knew, she had two options. She could laugh and roll her eyes and send him away for the hundredth time. He would grin and make some comment about his seduction failing again, blow her a kiss and bid her good night. _Or_ she could do something; say something, to let him know that he had won. She was torn. Her brain was telling her no, but her heart was telling her yes. She'd never been drawn to anyone like she was drawn to the Antivan. Would she ever get another moment like this?

She looked up at him. He seemed to fill the small tent; the air was filled with the scent of cloves.

Lana touched the curves on his cheek. "What do these mean?"

_You've won._

He leaned closer, into her hand, their faces inches apart. His breath caressed her face when he spoke.

"Absolutely nothing."

Zevran leaned in and kissed her then, softly, on the mouth. His hands cupped her face. She wouldn't have expected him to be this gentle. She kissed him back, her fingertips tracing his delicate ears, stroking his feathery hair.

He pushed her down against the blankets, somehow maneuvering her legs so his hips rested between her thighs, her legs spread. _Damned nimble assassins._

Lana parted her lips, she wanted to taste him. He obliged, sweeping his tongue over her lips and then licking her tongue, drawing it into his own mouth. He tasted faintly of sweet spices that she could not quite identify.

"Zev…" she murmured into his mouth. She had never been kissed like this. Oh, she had had lovers before, but Zevran was doing things with tongue and teeth and hands like she had never experienced. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her. A thumb stroking the inside of her wrist, a nibble up her ear, a feather-light touch over her breast. Her own hands explored his chest and back, clutching him to her.

He sat back then, kneeling and drawing her up so she sat on his thighs. With new freedom his hands ghosted up under her shirt, caressing the skin of her back and abdomen. Lana could feel her muscles jerking in response to his light touch.

Gathering fistfuls of cloth, he lifted her shirt up and off her body. His nimble fingers made short work of the bands of cloth binding her breasts as well, slowly untying them while continuing his assault on her mouth.

She shivered a bit against the cool night air as she was freed. He seemed to feel it, and drew her even closer, trailing kisses down her neck now. One of his hands moved up her stomach, cupping a breast in his palm, stroking her nipple gently. His hands against her felt wonderful. They were warm, and the roughness of his calluses increased the sweet friction on her smooth skin. For a while he simply touched her, molding her in his hands.

Then, supporting her with his hands, he leaned her back and captured a nipple in his mouth. Lana let her head fall back as his tongue circled around the center lazily, small sighs escaping her parted lips. Zevran blew on the wetness, watching her tighten with the sudden chill. He nipped a path to the other side where he continued, sucking on her strongly.

It was bliss, but Lana wanted more. She leaned forward, using her weight to drive him onto his back. Hovering over the elf, she delivered wet kisses down his torso, tracing the lines there with her tongue. There were scars too, pale against the brown of Zevran's skin. These she lavished with attention. He had his hands tangled in her hair, the muscles of his arms flexing.

He hissed when she kissed him through the leather of his trousers, his back arched and his hips jerked. "You saucy minx…" he breathed, a catch in his throat.

She smiled against him, placing her lips delicately along the ridge there. Then carefully, so carefully, she took the laces in her teeth and pulled, releasing the knot and loosening the ties. Sliding her hands up his legs she hooked her fingers in the waist and tugged them down. He kicked them away.

"My my! It appears that our Warden has some skills involving something other than the ritual slaughter of―" he broke off in a groan as she took him into her mouth. She'd always marveled at the dual textures, hard and yet velvety soft. Lana placed light kisses up and down his length while he trembled beneath her. Zev growled low in his throat when she swirled her tongue over his tip, lapping at him. Her teeth grazed along him, sending his eyes back in his head.

With a noise she felt more than she heard, he pulled her by the hair up to his mouth. He seared one fierce kiss on her lips, then wrapped his hands around her narrow waist and flipped her over. Taking command, he roughly tugged at the strings of her leggings and yanked them down over her hips. She squirmed under him, grasping whatever she could get her hands on, all while trying to rid herself of her leggings. When they were gone Zevran's hands found her legs and hips, making long strokes against her skin and touching her through the fabric of her smallclothes. Lana gasped when his fingers probed at her through the cloth; when he rocked his wrist against her most sensitive part.

Already she was flying so high. The smell of his hair, the taste of salt on his skin, his touches all over her body…all of it was driving her over the edge.

"Zevran…please…" she whispered into his mouth. Her underclothes were gone and his fingers were stroking her insides.

"Please what?" he said, smiling against her.

She yanked at his hair, writhing against his hand. "Zev I need you _now!_"

His smile grew wider. "Ah, when you put it that way…"

He kneeled between her legs, pushing her knees up and to the side, poised against her. Lana looked at him looming over her with his hands planted on either side of her. His blonde hair hung down, framing the sharp bones of his face. She could see the tension in his body, in the flexing of his arms, the set of his jaw despite the smile.

Her eyes were on his as he slowly pressed into her. Lana willed herself to relax. She'd never been in a position like this before…she felt so _full_.

Zevran leaned down over her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he set a long, slow pace. He would withdraw almost fully then press into her over and over again. His hands gripped her sides, head bowed in concentration. Every now and then he would place a light kiss against her stomach.

Lana's head was back against the blankets, her hands twisted among the fabric. He was driving her crazy. Every time he slid into her she thought she was there, but then he was gone again, leaving her panting and mewling for his return. She heard him growl then, low in his throat. Maybe this was as maddening for him as it was for her.

After the growl he left her no more. His hips bucked against her and he rocked over her core. She lifted her hips in time with his, pushing him deeper and harder against her. If they'd been throwing twigs on the fire before, they were throwing lamp oil now. The heat between her legs was spreading, up her belly and down her legs.

_Oh Zevran yes!_ Did she scream that aloud? Lana didn't know, she was deaf and blind. She could only feel…his harness inside her, his hands against her skin, his hot breath on her chest.

A wild tremor ran through his body and she vaguely heard him gasping words she could not understand. She wasn't quite there…he pushed once, twice, and then she was gone, aware of nothing but the heat rolling through her.

A minute later Zev rolled off her, sprawling against her side with one arm carelessly thrown over her. Without even looking she could feel his grin. Her chest heaved; she shivered a little as the cool night air wafted over her sweaty skin.

He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her, still grinning hugely.

"Ah my dearest Lana…I am so very glad you did not kill me."

She smiled weakly in return.

"So am I."


End file.
